


Come back

by lizleenimbus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hunt (Supernatural), self sacrificing idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizleenimbus/pseuds/lizleenimbus
Summary: Dean comes back to the motel from a tough hunt and accepts small comforts where and how he can.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 115
Kudos: 1079





	Come back

**Author's Note:**

> Just a smol ficlet I had imagined to go with these drawings I did. :) I hope someone likes. Also, I had no idea what to title this thing, so uh.... sorry hahaha

“You’re back.” 

Cas’ tense voice barely registered over the clatter of the slammed door, but Dean was deeply relieved to hear it, nonetheless. The breath he'd been holding for hours finally escaped, and it was an effort to keep himself from trembling too hard. He kicked off his boots and dropped his duffel without ceremony, and hung up his coat beside the trench by the door. Soiled weapons clanked in cacophonous protest, but he’d just have to clean them later. 

“‘Course. I told you we could handle one little vamp’s nest. We used to do it all by our lonesome long before you showed up, Sparkles.” 

“I know.”

Dean scoured a hand over his weary, blood-smattered features. He was crusted in dried sweat and gods knew what else, and his weathered skin still crawled. He longed for a shower, but his feet remained solidly planted. 

“Sam’s debriefing the local PD, but he promised he’d bring back some dinner,” he said without preamble, looking to fill the space. His sore fingers reached the back of his stiff neck, idly tracing where a headache was burrowing into tattered nerves.

Cas nodded and shuffled to extricate himself from the scratchy motel blanket. He scooted to the edge of the bed nearer to where Dean stood, rooted in molasses. It was still strange to see the angel sans tie or coat, not to mention without socks, but it was a much better look than the one in which Dean had been forced to leave him.

“How you feelin’, Cas?” 

“Much better, thank you. I just needed rest. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.” 

Dean scoffed suddenly. It was a ragged and bitter sound that startled out of him as he finally choked on the panic he’d been nursing all night. 

“You’re _sorry_ ? Cas, for fuck’s sake, you almost offed yourself healing half this shithole town. You’re _done_ helping, okay? These people they…they don’t-”

A warm squeeze around his wrist drained all the fight - and muscle tone, it seemed - out of his worn frame in an instant. He sank to his knees. 

Too exhausted to deal with any of it anymore, he buried his face into the polite pleats of those boring pants the angel wore. He felt Cas’ sharp intake of breath, and he couldn't really blame him. While they’d crossed certain lines recently, after a long decade of tiptoeing around each other, Dean’s unpracticed bids at affection were still as unpredictable as the rusty weathervane that spun over Bobby’s garage during summer storms. Cas welcomed him all the same, every time, thunder and all. 

“I didn’t know how much of you would be left to come back to,” was Dean’s muffled confession. 

“I'm sorry, Dean," the angel soothed, brushing his wide palms over Dean's shoulders. "I was worried about you too."

“See, _this_ is what I was talking about,” Dean groused. “Ain’t good for business when we’re both constantly worryin' about each other.”

Cas’ hands stilled. 

“Dean.” 

The angel’s growl carried an intoxicating touch of holy wrath in its gravel tones, but even so, Dean felt his insides coil in anticipation for a fight. One he’d started, again.

“I remind you that there is no force in the universe so far that has kept me from loving you; Not Heaven, not Hell, not God, not even _you_. So, I will _always_ worry. But I trust you, too. I trust you to come back to me, as long as you are able, just as I will always return to you.” 

...Leave it to Cas to make every loving word hit home like a punch to the jaw.

Dean’s eyes stung, and his shaking fingers curled bruisingly into the angel’s thigh as he vainly struggled for composure. He knew he was allowed to come undone here. Cas had helped him painstakingly carve out this tiny, precious safe space for him over the years, but four decades of hard wiring against any spark of vulnerability was difficult to untangle on his best days. This was definitely not one of those. 

“Fuck, Cas. Okay.” was all he had in him to say, though an arm wove itself around Cas’ hips and squeezed with all the warmth he was worth.

Satisfied, Cas’ hands resumed their gentle work, stroking his tired muscles with care. 

“You’re injured,” Cas observed.

“Just a coupla scratches.” 

Fingers wove themselves into his filthy hair next, and any further attempts at conversation or _feelings_ eventually devolved into lazy groans of delight. That was just fine with Dean, and far more than he’d expected from this garbage fire of a day. 

“Fuck me, that feels nice…” Dean eventually babbled against Castiel’s thigh, while strong hands kneaded at the taught cords of his neck.

“Perhaps later, once you’ve rested. And showered,” Cas agreed, a smirk evident in his voice. Dean was still not over how lucky he was. He was working on it. 

In fact, despite being covered in monstrous bodily fluids of all kinds, Dean found he was outright smiling into the polyester. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“I should hope so,” rumbled Cas, laying a lingering kiss on top of Dean’s head. 

From his lips poured the familiar tingle of Grace trickling down into his limbs, knitting his wounds back together. Dean bristled in dissent, given how dangerously drained Cas had been mere hours ago, but the firm squeeze on his shoulders had been warning enough. 

The curve was steep, but Dean had been learning how to pick his battles. More importantly, he was learning that here, he didn’t always have to fight.

  
  



End file.
